


liability

by paperxcrowns



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, its like one scene, ive been thinking about this crossover for a while, no beta we die like men, slight jj/will if u squint, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25729984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperxcrowns/pseuds/paperxcrowns
Summary: instead of agents towns and browning being in charge of the case, i decided the bau got invited to look into the butcher of baltimore case and have a more... friendly meeting with neil and the rest of the foxes.
Relationships: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/William LaMontagne Jr., Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 12
Kudos: 175
Collections: All For The Game random short stories





	liability

**Author's Note:**

> this definitely was not supposed to be 13k words. im so sorry. i got carried away.

“Alright my lovelies, buckle up because this is about to get dark,” Garcia started, glancing at her tablet before looking up and meeting the team’s eyes. “And I mean _dark._ I had to spend a whole hour looking at kitten videos just to forget it, and I didn’t even look at any pictures.”

Garcia clicked a button and pictures started popping up. They were pictures of victims, covered in blood and dumped in alleyways, female and male. Garcia kept clicking, showing close-ups of the wounds, limbs cut clean off with a sharp object, and of deep wounds. Garcia made a point of not looking at the photos, and her sparkling pink and green outfit drastically contrasted the gory scenes.

“This is an old case,” Hotch said, who’d been standing next to Garcia, Mateo Cruz on his right. “It’s a case that’s been investigated by the local FBI for years and has been handed to us due to recent evidence being brought to light.”

“Right,” Garcia picked up again, pushing her glasses up her nose. “This is the work of the Butcher of Baltimore, as he’s come to be known.”

The other agents perked up at the name, evidently recognizing it. It was one of the more well-known cases, so every agent knew of the Butcher, despite the BAU never being called in. The reason for that was the lack of evidence, the disappearance of witnesses who came forward, and the lack of victims. It's estimated the Butcher had at least fifty victims in his twenty-five years active, but only eight were ever found.

It explained why Cruz was standing next to Hotch, his lips pressed in a thin line. This case was important enough that the section chief of the BAU had been notified. Blake frowned and Reid leaned forward.

“You're all familiar with the case, but very few bodies were ever found, despite the reports saying the Butcher was active for over twenty-five years,” Garcia went on. “There is an estimate of dozens of victims each year, but the number of victims found is very low. We only know of the Butcher because a member of his mob confessed to the FBI. Two days later, he was found dead.”

“The Butcher’s weapon of choice is a cleaver, but some of the wounds have been determined to be made by a blunt axe, most likely to inflict more pain on the victim,” Hotch picked up, meeting the eyes of each member of the team one by one. “All of the wounds were done ante-mortem over the course of several days, suggesting that the unsub most likely holds his victims in a secure area to torture them before cutting off their limbs and killing them, then disposing of the bodies.”

“Yes,” Garcia went on. “And they’re left with nothing but their clothes-- or what remains of them. The MO stayed consistent over the past two decades, and so far we haven’t been able to ID any of the victims.”

“A working theory is that they’re either members of the gang who crossed the unsub, or unfortunate dealers or buyers who stepped out of line,” Hotch said. “Either that, or the missing ID and wallets could be a forensic countermeasure to throw off the FBI and slow the investigation.”

“Either way, these are definitely not mercy kills,” JJ added. “these victims were alive through the torture and amputation, only dying from blood loss or heart failure.”<

Morgan flipped through his tablet. “None of the wounds or amputations are done post-mortem,” he added. “This unsub gets off on the pain he inflicts on his victims and takes no pleasure in mutilating their bodies once they’re dead, not even as a forensic countermeasure.”

“He’s either very confident no one will ID them, or doesn’t care enough to properly cover his tracks,” Blake said. “But killing for this long and never once making sure they wouldn’t be ID’d can’t be a mistake. He knows some bodies are found. He’d have learned from it the first few years. This is a taunt.”

The agents stilled and frowned at their tablets. Garcia pressed her lips together to force down her squeak of apprehension. It had never occurred to her before.

“Twenty years of this. Someone had to see something” JJ asked, her forehead creasing as she flipped through her file. “There is no physical description or witnesses. Someone had to have seen him.”

"The FBI apprehended a suspect two years ago, actually," Garcia said, catching the attention of the agents. "But there wasn't enough physical evidence, so they released him on January 9th of this year."

"Which brings us to suspect number one," Cruz spoke up as Garcia clicked and another slide came up. "Nathan Wesninski."

A mugshot of a man in his early forties popped up. He had auburn hair and cold blue eyes. There were other pictures, taken during surveillance, of Nathan in business suits, either on the phone or talking to a blond woman with a wide smile.

"Despite the strong evidence that pointed to Nathan being the Butcher, he was released due to a lack of physical evidence. His house had been searched and came up empty. Days earlier, a local Baltimore newspaper printed a story that the Butcher had been killed by angry inmates," Cruz went on.

“Which brought the FBI to think the unsub could be part of a local mafia, maybe even tied to the yakuza,” Hotch said. “And they’re good at covering their tracks and keeping people quiet.”

This surprised the team.

“But the yakuza are crime syndicates who usually deal with money laundering and drug trafficking,” Rossi said. “Sure, they’re known to get violent, but I’ve never heard of the yakuza committing murders.”

Hotch met his eyes. “We believe he’s only working with them, or at least a weaker branch rooted in Baltimore. There are known yakuza families around Maryland, notably the Moriyama family.”

“Doesn’t that sound unlikely?” Reid spoke up. He cleared his throat and went on once he had everyone’s attention. “The Moriyamas are separated in two branches, and while one is a successful business in New York City, the other branch oversees a sport created by Tetsuji Moriyama over thirty years ago. And the sport is doing rather well nationwide. I just find it highly unlikely that either branch would jeopardize their successful operations by betting on someone as volatile as the Butcher.”

The agents remained silent.

“The FBI are working on the theory that the unsub may have originally been a member of the Moriyama’s crime syndicate, but broke away to form his own gang,” Cruz spoke up. “They relayed all their information to me once they contacted me for your help.”

“Is there a working theory that the Moriyamas and the Butcher are still working together?” Blake asked. “Maybe the yakuza itself isn’t into violent crime, but this is only a family related to the yakuza. They might not speak for the entire organization, and simply have different rules.”

“They considered it,” Cruz said. “Not in so much detail, though. You’ll have to share your theory with them once you land.”

Hotch snapped the file closed. "Garcia will relay any further information on the way to Baltimore. Wheels up in 30."

He turned to leave, Cruz on his heels as the others sprung into action and left the room to grab their overnight bags and get to the jet.

-

_“When the soul suffers too much, it develops a taste for misfortune, Albert Camus”_

“A meat cleaver is a rather unconventional weapon of choice,” Rossi said. “It would take a lot of force to cut limbs off in one swing. And it takes precision and patience to make lacerations like these.”

“Not really,” Reid began. “Meat cleavers are specifically designed to cut through bones. It would require more force and a sharper blade to cut clean through human bones, but it’s possible to do it in one swing with enough practice. It would take a lot of energy for the level of torture inflicted.”

“The lacerations, though. Those aren’t the work of someone who’s unraveling. They’re precise. He knows what he’s doing and how to do it with a victim probably twisting around.”

“Did they run a tox screen on each victim found?” JJ looked up from the file. “Maybe he’s keeping them drugged.”

“They all came up clean,” Cruz provided.

“So he’s not knocking his victims out, which reinforces the theory that the victims have had run-ins or ties to the Butcher’s gang.”

“If that’s their connection, then we need to find out who’s actually part of his gang.”

“We may have our suspect already,” Hotch said, “but we still need to prove he’s guilty and tie him to the gang he’s operating. We’re working in the dark, even with our suspect.”

“Do we know anything about the witness that came forward all those years ago?” JJ asked, casting a glance out the window.

“Not much. He said his name was Louis Robinson and gave his statement, and when the police scheduled him a meeting with the FBI, he never showed up,” Cruz said. “He was found dead in his apartment, with lacerations, both legs cut clean off.”

“A clear warning to law enforcement,” Rossi added. “‘Leave my business alone or you’re next’.”

Garcia squeaked and muttered under her breath.

“They ran his name and face in their database, but no Louis Robinson came up with his name. The FBI dropped his profile when it became irrelevant, so I’m having Garcia run him through facial recognition,” Cruz finished.

“If our unsub is part of a mob, he can’t be working alone,” Morgan said, studying each of the photos. “And if he’s avoided being found this long, he’s got to have people on the inside.”

“That will complicate things for us, but our job is more delicate than finding the unsub,” Cruz spoke up, “the real reason we’ve been called in is to determine if Nathan Wesninski is the unsub or not.”

“His file says he has a wife and a son who both disappeared nine years ago,” Blake said. “Local police chalked it up to the Butcher killing them and disposing of the bodies.”

“If he’s our unsub, then maybe he did murder his wife and child,” Rossi speculated. “It’s happened before.”

Blake flipped through the files and Reid sat with his hands knitted together, a complicated look on his face.

“I don’t recall the file mentioning the wife’s name,” he finally spoke up. “Garcia--” he turned to the screen “-- can you find anything on Nathan Wesninski’s wife?”

“It is odd that they never mentioned a name, or show any pictures,” Blake said, glancing at the file again. “Nathan’s son and wife are only mentioned-- no name, no pictures, no DOB, nothing. If they disappeared, then there’d at least be a file with names and personal information.”

“Garcia will look into it,” Hotch said. “We’ll see if the police can issue us a warrant to search Nathan’s house. In the meantime, Reid and Morgan, you’ll visit Mr. Robinson’s home for evidence and talk to the neighbors. Dave, you and JJ go to the M.E. Blake, Cruz and I will set up the field office and get the rundown from local law enforcement.”

-

“Thank you for coming to consult,” S.A. Towns told Cruz as they stepped in the police department.

The chief of police smiled politely, albeit looking slightly frazzled. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said with a tone of relief.

Linh Rivers had been an officer in Baltimore for over twenty years, and had been promoted to chief of police six years ago. The Butcher case was open, but new evidence was slow, and officers were frustrated with the case. She was a woman who was not easily frazzled, but the release of their number one suspect-- that she’d arrested herself with two other officers-- had really rattled the department. The arrival of the FBI and the BAU only jostled and crowded the office more. Chief Rivers was in way over her head, and it had barely been two months.

“Of course,” Hotch said politely, him and Blake following after the chief while Cruz and Towns stopped in the hallway to talk.

“It’s been crazy these past few months since Nathan Wesninski’s release,” she told them. “I was sure we’d finally caught the Butcher, and now almost everyone’s working double shifts to try and nail this son of a bitch.”

“We’ll try the best we can,” Hotch said. “We’ll be working closely with the local FBI on this case.”

Chief Rivers hummed in agreement as she led the team through an open door. “Is this alright for you and your team to set up?”

“It’s great, thank you.”

The chief stepped out, and Hotch and Blake set the files on the table.

“We need to find out what we can about Nathan’s wife and son,” Hotch said. “They could be the only people able to pin down Nathan’s operation.”

“I’ll get Garcia on the line to see what she found so far.” Blake pulled out her phone and clicked Garcia's number.

“I need to find Cruz and agent Towns.”

Blake's phone rang a total of three times before Garcia picked up.

“Ask and you shall be received,” came the cheery voice on the other end.

“Garcia, did you find anything on Nathan’s wife and kid?”

“It’s a great puzzle that I’m still deciphering,” Garcia replied. “Though I can tell you that they were named Mary and Nathaniel. I found an old family photo that I just sent to your phones. Funny story, it turns out that Nathaniel played in an Exy Little Leagues a few weeks before his and Mary’s disappearance. The photos are adorable, and the only positive thing about this case so far.”

“Exy, as in the game created by Tetsuji Moriyama?” Blake frowned, glancing out the window to look at Hotch, deep in conversation with Cruz and S.A. Towns. Another man was talking with them, probably another agent.

“The very same one!”

“Alright, Garcia, I need you to send me everything you know about Exy. It’s too much of a coincidence for it to be unrelated to the case.”

“Sending, sending, sending, all done! Everything about Exy has been uploaded to your phone. You might want to print it, there’s a lot to unpack. I’ll call you back when I find more information on Mary and Nathaniel.”

Blake heard the line go dead and checked the recent messages Garcia had sent. She studied the picture of Nathaniel and Mary. Nathaniel looked no older than eight years old, with a bright smile and the same auburn hair and blue eyes as his father. Mary had curly brown hair and brown eyes and had Nathaniel wrapped in her arms. Her smile was smaller, more reserved and a little tight. And Nathan wasn’t in the picture, Blake noticed.

She needed to find a printer.

-

“Victims are still being ID’d,” Doctor Finley told the two agents. “Only one came back positive.” He pushed up his glasses and glanced at his clipboard. “Keaton Douglas, thirty-four white male. He’s the first one they found. The others are still unidentified.”

"Where were the bodies found?" Rossi asked, glancing at his copy of the medical chart.

"Mr. Douglas was found in a dumpster, and the other bodies were found either in the bay or hidden from sight in alleyways."

"And all had been there for a couple of days, right?"

"The longest was a week. Most of the victims were found within two to three days."

"So our unsub's primary intent isn't to send a message to the police, but rather to his gang. He makes people disappear, and if the police finds bodies, its by accident."

"Except for Louis Robinson," JJ said. "That was a message for the police to warn them to stay out of his business."

"So his gratification doesn't come from taunting the police or having the world know about him. He wants his small circle of followers and other gangs to know him. This has nothing to do with law enforcement."

JJ and Rossi walked to the most recent victim, and unidentified Jane Doe in her early twenties. Doctor Finley followed close behind.

“What can you tell us about the lacerations?” JJ asked, lifting the sheets.

“Well, all of the victims have bruising and shallow cuts along their wrists from what I’d assume would be handcuffs. Their arms are heavily bruised, but they don’t seem inflicted, probably from being carried or dragged along. Then, they all have almost identical lacerations all over their bodies, all of which were done ante-mortem and with the intent to inflict pain but not kill.” Doctor Finley looked at JJ and Rossi. “Cause of death was determined to be blood loss for most of them, and only three of heart failure, all caused by the amputation of limbs. The amputation is clean, cutting straight through bone.”

“Would you need a medical background to do this?” JJ asked.

Doctor Finley shook his head. “Basic knowledge of the human body would be sufficient.”

“What about the weapon used?” Rossi asked. “Were all of them caused by a meat cleaver? It seems a little bulky to cut with precision.”

“A cleaver was used on most of them. However, a blunt axe was used on two of the victims, including Mr. Douglas. The axe splintered bones, making the breaks uneven.”

“To inflict more pain,” Rossi deduced. “This just gets better and better.”

“So now the question to ask, is why was Keaton Douglas and the other victim killed with a blunt axe,” JJ mused. “Whatever made the unsub kill them must have been pretty bad for this level of torture.”

“The first victim, Keaton Douglas, was found a little over six years ago,” Rossi began, turning to look at JJ. “And it was only after our dear friend Louis Robinson’s confession that they related his murder to the unsub. What I’m curious to know is why Louis came forward, and why a year after Douglas’s body showed up.”

JJ frowned in contemplation. “Something must have happened between the unsub and Robinson that made him come forward.”

Rossi lifted a hand, palm up. “Our unsub kills someone Robinson cares about.” he lifted his other hand. “And in retaliation, Robinson brings to light the existence of the Butcher of Baltimore.”

Him and JJ exchanged looks.

-

“Did you find anything on Robinson?” Hotch asked when Morgan and Reid stepped through the door.

JJ and Rossi were sitting at the table with coffee next to Blake and chief Rivers while Hotch was standing. Cruz was dealing with the FBI in another conference room.  
Morgan sat down in a chair. “Neighbors described him as a recluse. He didn’t speak to anyone, and wasn’t home often. He was gone all day and most of the night, and apparently travelled a lot, and seemed to avoid talking to anyone in his apartment building. Neighbors didn’t know enough to know anything about his family, but did say that no one ever visited, though Mr. Robinson did receive numerous packages addressed to another name. I gave it to Garcia to run prints.”

“Did you find anything in his apartment?” Hotch asked.

Morgan shook his head. “It was empty. Literally empty. Only a mattress and two lamps and practically nothing in the kitchen. The FBI told us it had looked exactly like that when they first searched it.”

“So it was a front, like his name?” JJ asked, knitting her fingers together.

“Pretty much.”

Garcia called Morgan at this moment.

“Tell me something good mama,” he sighed.

Reid got up and walked to the cork board where a map of Baltimore was hung. Pictures of the victims and Nathan were tacked to the board. Reid pulled out a red marker.

“So I was snooping around Mr. Robinson and found that his real name is actually Thomas Murphy and had many run-ins with the police over the years, usually for drug possession, and once for an allegation of murder ten years ago that was was later expunged.”

The team exchanged uneasy looks.

“Any gang affiliations, Garcia?” Blake asked.

“Um… his father was a leader of a drug cartel up in Boston before he was arrested when Thomas was twelve years old. After that, his mother moved them to Baltimore where Thomas collected himself quite the record-- battery, breaking and entering and even petty theft-- which landed him in juvie until he was eighteen and then he… oh.”

“‘Oh’?” Morgan echoed.

“Oh, this is different. After that, he disappears a bit, only resurfacing upon arrests, and every time the charges are dropped. After the murder allegation, it’s like he set the record straight-- he got a job in a law firm, bought himself a house with a large sum of money, the works.”

The team exchanged looks.

Chief Rivers spoke up for the first time. “Does he have any connection whatsoever with Nathan Wesninski?”

“Nothing obvious pops up. I’ll hit you back when I find something.”

Garcia hung up and Hotch turned his attention to Reid. “Is there a pattern?” he asked.

Reid was standing at the board, muttering under his breath and circling areas in Baltimore in marker where each of the victims were found.

“The disposal sites are approximately twenty-two point seven square miles apart,” Reid started, capturing everyone’s attention. “And are each in different neighborhoods and areas of the city.”

“Reid, can you narrow down his hunting ground?” Hotch asked.

Reid glanced at the team. “A good half of the city, at least.” The others sighed. “But we can eliminate the areas the furthest from downtown and busy streets. From what I gathered, our unsub is more comfortable in the midtown and downtown area, but stays away from busy locations.”

“Where does Nathan Wesninski live?”

“Downtown. Near the harbor,” Chief Rivers replied immediately.

The agents accepted the answer in silence.

The silence was startled by Chief Rivers’s phone buzzing. “They found a new body,” she told the agents as she stood up. “Just out in the inner harbor.”

Hotch jerked his chin. “Dave, JJ, we’re going to the crime scene. The rest of you stay here in case Garcia calls back. Cruz should be about done with the agents, anyway.”

The three agents followed the chief of police out the door.

-

Reid was still glancing at the map, murmuring to himself and Blake was reading her files on Exy and its ties to the Moriyama family when Cruz walked through the door, followed by two agents.

“Agents, these are S.A. Towns and Browning,” he told the rest of the team. “They’re the ones who called in the BAU.”

The two agents made themselves comfortable at the table.

“Hotch, Rossi and JJ went to investigate the new crime scene and body,” Morgan said. “They found another.”

Agent Browning scoffed. “It’s not like we’ll have any luck with that one. Six years and we still only ID’d one of the eight victims.”

“We’re trying to find what the victims had in common to find the unsub,” Morgan said.

“No need, it’s Nathan Wesninski,” Agent Towns chimed in, further annoying Morgan.

“That’s what we’re here to prove, agents.”

Whatever Towns was going to add was cut off by Morgan’s ringtone. He pulled out his phone, silently thanking Garcia.

“Give me something good, mama,” he exhaled.

“Oh, do I have something for you, my tall cup of caramel mocha latte,” she said, a smile in her tone. “While I’m waiting for results on Nathan and Thomas working together I got results back from my search into Nathan Wesninski.”

“Let me put you on speaker.”

“Oh, you are no fun,” she pouted. “When can I have you all to myself?”

Morgan laughed but put her on speaker and placed the phone on the table.

“What’d you find, doll face?” he asked.

"So I dug more into our good friend Nathan, and I found quite a lot, actually."

Blake motioned for Reid to come and sit as Garcia continued.

"So I of course checked his phone first, and it wasnt a walk in the park, let me tell you. He's got, like, dozens of VPNs and encrypted messages--"

"Garcia," Morgan warned.

"Right. Anyway, so like I said, I looked through his calls and I noticed that some came all the way from England, specifically from a Stuart Hatford. What makes them more interesting is that Mary’s last name is actually Hatford."

“A family member then,” Blake pondered. “Did the messages ever mention what happened to her and her son?”

“No, actually. Though Stuart did send a lot of messages asking about her whereabouts. And before you ask, no, I didn’t find any Stuart Hatfords with Mary Hatfords in their close family anywhere in England.”

"Anything else, angel?" Morgan asked.

"Hold your horse, chocolate thunder, that's not even the best thing I discovered. I also tracked Nathan over the past ten years prior to his arrest two years ago, and his cellphone and credit card activity is all over the place. He’s been everywhere. And no, these don’t look like business trips. He would sometimes spend as long as three months in one city, and the shortest is about a week. I checked his firm and there weren’t any trips made to those cities that correlate with when Nathan went there.”

“Why did he go all over the US like that?” agent Browning asked.

“Well that’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Garcia said. “And it’s not easy, because there are huge gaps in between, sometimes even two and half years gaps, where Nathan is back in Baltimore. And guess what? He’s never in the same city twice. Not once in the past nine years.”

Morgan did a double take. “That’s odd.”

“Very much so, sugar.”

“Garcia,” Reid began.

“Yes, 187?”

“It almost sounds like he was following someone, doesn’t it? Several months in one city and never the same city, for the most of a year? It almost sounds like he spent more time out of Baltimore than in Baltimore.”

“That’s correct,” Garcia said in a surprised voice. “He was rarely in Baltimore during that time. Except for those big gaps--”

“Maybe whoever he was chasing went out of the country,” agent Towns cut in. “Wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”

“But who would he chase for this long with this much determination for nine years?” agent Browning asked. “That takes dedication. They must’ve really wronged him.”

Morgan caught Blake’s eyes.

“We know who Nathan was chasing,” Morgan said, the two agents falling silent. “Mary Hatford and their son, Nathaniel.”

“It explains their mysterious disappearance, and the dates match up,” Blake added. “Mary and Nathaniel were reported missing nine years ago, and Nathan began cross-country hunting for them nine years ago.”

The agents made brief eye-contact.

“Okay,” agent Towns conceded. “Let’s say you’re right. It doesn’t matter now, because right now our priority is getting Nathan behind bars and get him to confess to every murder. Maybe after we’ll look for his missing wife and son.”

“I’m afraid finding them won’t be necessary,” Garcia said. “Nathan was arrested two years ago in Seattle for allegedly murdering a woman in her mid-thirties according to eye-witness, though they never found her body. According to that same witness, she saw the woman run with a young teenage boy that she presumed to be her son. Since Nathan’s release, he hasn’t left Baltimore.”

“Only the woman was injured?” Morgan asked, waited for the confirmation, then went on. “She was still alive, and the son was uninjured. One of them might still be alive, and if we find them, I bet you they’ll know enough to incarcerate Nathan for a long time.”

“We can send a smaller force to look for them,” agent Browning said after some consideration, clearly not happy about it. “But we’ll have to stay on track here.”

“Garcia will send them everything she found on the wife and son,” Morgan said, making eye contact with Browning.

-

Since the case had been pending for twenty years and still had an alarmingly frustrating amount of evidence for such a dangerous individual, paired with the fact that it had been judged to be connected to a local mafia group, it was imperative that it be solved as quickly as it could. It had been two months already, and the FBI and Baltimore P.D. were antsy, paranoid that too much time had been wasted already.

Which was why the BAU agents were sitting around the conference table, empty boxes of takeout stacked on one side and cups of coffee in front of them. Hotch, Rossi and JJ had gone to the M.E. after the crime scene before going back to the precinct, just two and a half hours ago.

Now, just a few minutes shy of midnight, the chief of police burst into the room, startling the BAU’s conversation to a close.

“There’s someone on the phone for David Rossi,” she said. “He says Emily Prentiss told him to call you.”

Everyone in the BAU was on their feet, and Rossi followed the chief out of the conference room to a desk where an officer was holding up a phone in a white-knuckle grip.

“Who is it?” Rossi asked, ignoring the phone and pressing the speaker button.

The voice on the other end chuckled. “Agent Prentiss never mentioned you were this ill-mannered,” the voice said, a clear British lilt to it.

Rossi scowled. “I can hang up now, if you don’t want to answer my question.”

“I’m Stuart Hatford, and I just had a chat with Agent Prentiss earlier today. She got me this flight, actually.”

“What flight?”

“I’m in Baltimore. I just landed. I usually don’t make it a habit to come to Interpol for help, but I needed a quick flight. Look, I have enough information on the Butcher of Baltimore to help you solve this case, and I’d love to share it with you.”

There was a pause and tense silence for a heartbeat.

“I suppose you’ll want something in return,” Rossi said, feeling a headache already worm his way behind his eyes. “Bad guys usually love their deals.”

Stuart didn’t laugh. “I came here to find my nephew and my sister. I help you catch Nathan Wesninski, and in exchange I get to bring them back safely to England, and then we can go back to hating each other all we want. I know you’re desperate to catch him. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t desperate myself. Do we have a deal?”

Rossi turned to the team. Their faces were grim and set, matching that of the two FBI agents and the chief of police. They didn’t have any other option.

Rossi sighed. “We’ll accept your deal only if Mary and Nathaniel agree to help us put Nathan behind bars for good.”

Stuart stayed silent for a few moments. “I’ll agree to that only because we’re running out of time. Nathan is looking for Mary and Nathaniel, and I’m afraid we might not find them in time. But it will all depend on whether Nathaniel and Mary cooperate or not, and they might not be half as nice as me.”

“Wonderful,” Rossi sarcastically commented.

Stuart either didn’t notice or didn’t care to reply. “Your agents really should come and hurry up. I’ll be waiting outside Concourse E. You’ve already wasted two months, and Nathan is not a man who likes to take his time. When he finds them, they’re dead, and that means no confession.”

Stuart hung up and the precinct was left in silence.

“We’ll go pick him up at the airport,” Hotch said. “We don’t have a minute to waste if this man is hunting again.”

“Let’s hope we won’t find them in a body bag,” Rossi muttered as the BAU practically sprinted out the building.

The chief of police sent a whole squad with them and the two FBI agents. Hotch directed the car JJ was driving to pick up Stuart while the others would head directly to Nathan’s home. Agent Towns climbed in the passenger seat with them, and that was that.

“Garcia?” Reid asked when she called his cell.

“I know you’re on your way to find Nathan, but I needed to tell you that my search on Nathan and Thomas came up empty. If they crossed paths, they didn’t leave a trail.”

“That’s okay,” Blake said from the backseat. “We--”

“Wait, wait, wait! I did crosscheck Nathan Wesinski with the Moriyama family, and the results were very interesting indeed. It turns out that Nathan is in frequent contact with both branches of the family rooted in the U.S., but stopped all contact with Tetsuji, the founder of--”

“--Exy, yes,” Reid said. “What about the other?”

“Oh, it was very formal. Just business deals, and almost all were via encrypted phone calls. Whatever they’re talking about sounds shady enough to me.”

“Did anything come back from Mary and Nathaniel?” JJ asked, making a left.

“Well the Exy part came up so many times that it seemed too convenient to not look into, and it turns out that Nathaniel was practicing his Little Leagues there. He was participating in a match that would sign him to the best school that teaches Exy, Edgar Allen University. Guess who coaches the Exy team there? Tesuiji Moriyama, and his nephew Riko is part of the team, as well as the son of Kayleigh Day, who founded Exy alongside Tetsuji. Unfortunately Nathaniel and his mother never showed up for the second match.”

Reid glanced at Blake. The timing seemed a little off.

“And neither Nathan nor the Moriyamas ever issued any statements about the disappearance?” Blake asked.

“Nope. None. Nathan reported it to the police and never brought it up again.”

“Okay, Garcia, we’ll call you back, we’re at the terminal,” JJ said before Reid ended the call.

She pulled up on the curb next to a tall man well in his early forties. The agents had seen Stuart’s picture enough times today to recognize him on the spot.

“FBI agents, I assume?” he asked, opening the back door open. “I’ll have my people follow us.”

JJ glanced out the rearview mirror and saw a rental car pull up right behind them.

“Get in, the rest of the team’s already at his house.”

“Call your team,” Stuart said, shutting the door behind him. “Call them and tell them not to enter the house. My people and I will go in first to collect Mary and Nathaniel if they’re there. Then you can come pick up Nathan.”

JJ drove back onto the highway and sped off towards Nathan’s house, the rental car speeding right behind them.

“We never agreed to that!” Agent Towns exclaimed.

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t up for negotiation. We agreed I’d get them out safely, so I will. I don’t care for Nathan. You can have him. I’ll make sure not to kill him, don’t worry.”

“Blake,” JJ said, glancing at the rearview mirror again.

She heard the dial tone and Hotch pick up.

“You’re not really going to listen to him?” Towns exploded.

JJ glared at him. “You called us in to help you solve this. We call the shots, and we’re calling this shot. I don’t see a problem here.”

“Hotch, are you at the house yet?” Blake asked, then waited. “Okay, we just picked up Stuart Hatford and he says he wants to go in alone first.” Another pause. “He says he has no interest in Nathan.” Another pause. “He seemed desperate to make the deal, and I didn’t pick up anything in his tone or words. He’s not lying. He’ll leave Nathan alone.” Blake waited, and everyone in the car awaited the reply. “Okay. I’ll tell him.”

She pulled the phone away. “Hotch agrees to give you ten minutes to retrieve you sister and nephew before they come in.”

Agent Towns started protesting loudly, but JJ glowered at him hard enough to make him shut up.

“Mr. Hatford,” she began. “Why didn’t you try looking for your sister and nephew earlier? They’ve been missing for nine years. Why now?”

Stuart looked between each of the agents, nonplussed. “You don’t know?” he asked. “Really?” he said in disbelief.

“Are we missing something here?” Reid asked.

Stuart glanced at the file in Blake’s hands. “You looked into Exy history for its connection to Nathaniel,” he deduced. “But you didn’t bother looking more recently?”

“Did something happen recently?” Reid asked again, leaning forward slightly.

“My nephew started playing again. That’s actually how I found him. I don’t know why Mary let him play, let alone show his face on national television, but it doesn’t matter. They’re getting out of here with me. Tonight.”

The finality in his tone sounded like he was putting an end to the conversation, but Reid cleared his throat.

“Can you show me your nephew? We haven’t been able to find any pictures of him past the age of nine.”

Stuart sighed, but pulled out his phone and typed something in the searchbar. “I guess you wouldn’t have. At least he had the decency to change his name. He goes by Neil Josten, which is probably why you didn’t look into it.” He shot Blake an accusatory glare, which she leveled with a calm look. Stuart broke eye contact first to show the two agents a video of Neil Josten during an interview, a more recent one where he had his father’s auburn hair and blue eyes. His curls and the sharpness of his chin had been inherited from his mother’s side, however. He had a curious tattoo on his right cheekbone-- a number four. But neither agents said anything about it.

“He’d be eighteen by now, wouldn’t he?” JJ asked, a complicated look on her face.

“Nineteen. His birthday was on January ninth.”

Towns made a sound that sounded like a mix of surprise and horror. “The day his father was released?”

A terrible silence settled thickly in the car as Stuart glared daggers at Towns. The rest of the ride was silent and they pulled up to Nathan’s townhouse at three quarters past one in the morning. The house was already surrounded by squad cars, bathing the windows in blinking red and blue. A crowd of people dressed in nightgowns or pajamas was already gathered to gawk curiously when the agents and Stuart Hatford stepped out of the SUV. Hotch met them in a few quick strides.

“Stuart Hatford?” he called as the rental car pulled up and parked behind the SUV.

“That would be me. And I hope you don’t mind that I brought some backup with me.” Stuart gestured to the men and women stepping out of the car and quickly strapping on kevlar vests and holstering guns.

Hotch’s face remained impassive and stoic. “You have ten minutes. After that, we go in. Don’t try to run, I’ll have agents outside and I’d really like to avoid the hassle of chasing after you.”

Stuart met Hotch’s gaze with a steely one of his own. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, Hotch turned and began ordering his team into position and Stuart strapped on his own bulletproof vest, but kept his gun in his hand. He motioned for his team to walk up the way to the house and jiggled the doorknob. It didn’t open, so Stuart kicked it three times before it splintered and swung open.

The group stepped inside and were out of sight. Hotch and the BAU remained in tense silence for a moment.

“I don’t like sending a group of criminals in first,” Hotch muttered.

“I don’t like it any more than you, but I do like the idea of witnesses willing to cooperate and help us put away this son of a bitch,” Rossi replied.

Blake gripped her gun harder and could almost hear the minutes ticking away slowly. They barely made it to seven minutes when shots rang out.

Hotch was spurred into action first. “Go! Go! Find Nathan and Stuart!” he yelled as the agents ran inside the house. “JJ! Reid! Cover the backdoor and garage!”

JJ and Reid split from the group and ran toward the garage door. It was wide open and facing down a mostly empty street except for one squad car.

“JJ they’re getting away!” Reid shouted, breaking into a sprint to chase after the black figures running past the perimeter.

They were too far away for Reid to catch them, and they easily melted into the night. There was no chance of catching them by foot. Reid jogged to the squad car and knocked on the glass.

“Tell every officer to pull the perimeter back another five meters and tighten patrols,” Reid said breathlessly. “Be on the lookout for Stuart Hatford and his group. They can’t be far.”

The officer opened his mouth to reply, but JJ shouting his name made him turn around immediately.

“Reid!” she yelled again, her voice strangled.

Reid took off for the gaping black maws of the garage. The doors were wide open. He stepped in and once his eyes adjusted he immediately spotted JJ standing stock-still in front of a kneeling figure. He was on his knees with his hands wound behind his head and knotted into his dirty and rumpled hair. Reid caught the faintest flash of auburn beneath all the grime.

“Is that--?” Reid started, lowering his gun as he got a better view.

JJ approached him slowly, but in the dim light, his eyes were hooded and distant. She knelt next to him and choked down her gasp. He had horrible burns and deep gashes on his face and all along his forearms and he was bleeding everywhere. The blood had soaked through his shirt, and run down his arms and face.

JJ placed a hand on his shoulder just as Agent Towns ran inside. He screamed for paramedics to be brought over.

Nathaniel’s eyes finally focused again and snapped to JJ’s.

“You’re too late,” he said in a hoarse voice, and JJ hated that she knew it was because he’d been screaming. “My father is dead.”

Dimly, JJ noticed Hotch and Blake running through the opening in the garage and stopped at the sight of the young man kneeling in front of the police.

“Your father,” Agent Towns said stupidly.

More officers tore off down the opening, and Hotch followed after them to explain the situation.

JJ shook off her shock when Reid gently grabbed Nathaniel’s arm to help him stand up. She stood up and helped Nathaniel to his feet.

“Your father,” Towns repeated, this time in a cold tone.

‘My name is Nathaniel Wesninski,” he said in a detached voice, almost sounding in shock, “and my father is dead.”

Nathaniel started laughing then. It was such a horrible and distressed and hysteric sound that JJ felt tears form in her eyes.

“Nathaniel, you need to breathe, okay?” she said. “Can you do that? Just breathe in and out. Focus on my voice. In and out.”

It didn’t help, and moments later, Nathaniel collapsed on his knees and leaned forward. Reid and JJ, still holding on to him, collapsed next to him and steadied as he threw up.

“Where are the paramedics?” Morgan yelled over the fray of voices and police radio.

“Can you stand up?” Reid asked softly, already back on his feet. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Nathaniel breathed hard. “I’ve been a problem for nineteen years,” he said hoarsely, and JJ’s heart broke. “I’m too tired to be one tonight. Just get me out of here.”

The ambulance finally pulled up and JJ and Reid guided Nathaniel to the paramedic, being mindful of his injuries. In the streetlight, they looked a lot worse than in the dark. His father had done this. JJ wished she hadn’t experienced enough cases like these, but this wasn’t unusual.

The paramedic took charge and JJ and Reid let go of Nathaniel, who slumped in the paramedic’s arms and cooperated quietly when he was strapped down in a stretcher.

“I’ll ride with him,” JJ told Hotch.

Hotch acquiesced soundlessly, watching the paramedics fuss over Nathaniel’s ruined arms.

“How can a father do that to their own child?” JJ asked, her voice wobbling.

Hotch sighed. “I don’t know. But we can’t lose our minds trying to answer that question.”

JJ took a steadying breath. “I left my gun on the ground,” she said in a muted tone.

“I’ll get it. We'll see you at the hospital.”

JJ didn’t acknowledge it. She just silently climbed into the ambulance as the EMT shut the doors. The ambulance drove off while the paramedics continued fussing over Nathaniel. His heartbeat was steady, at least.

“Is he going to make it?” JJ asked, hoping there wasn’t any damage down under the shirt.

The EMT briefly glanced at her in sympathy. “The wounds are extensive and will scar eventually, but luckily he’ll survive.”

JJ wasn’t so sure if it was really all that lucky.

-

JJ stayed at the hospital all night. She fell asleep in her chair and only woke up around five thirty when Morgan brought her a cup of coffee and a muffin from a local coffee shop. Her neck was sore, and Morgan insisted she go back to their hotel room to get some rest, but JJ had declined. Morgan had taken a seat and stayed the rest of the morning with her.

JJ gazed at Nathaniel’s sleeping form. Both lower arms were covered in bandages and gauze, as was his face. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, and the dried blood and grime had been cleaned from his body and hair. He looked peaceful, and suddenly JJ was thankful for morphine.

“We’ll have to question him when he wakes up,” Morgan said quietly.

“Did you know Will and I considered Nathaniel as a potential name for Henry?” she asked softly.

Morgan was silent. “No. I didn’t.”

“When I saw the last picture taken of him when he was eight, with that smile, he just reminded me so much of Henry.”

Morgan took a sip from his coffee. “Child cases are the worst.”

JJ laughed. “I hate them. It’s good to have things to remind you that the world isn’t as bad as we see it. It keeps us sane.”

Morgan didn’t know what to reply to that. “His mother’s dead,” he settled on saying.

“Is that why his uncle shot Nathan?” JJ asked.

“Yep. She wasn’t in the house, or anywhere. It’s not that hard a jump to make.”

-

It was another couple of hours before Nathaniel woke up. JJ was gazing out the window, and Morgan was dozing slightly in the chair next to her. The other agents were awake and had texted JJ and Morgan updates on Nathaniel’s teammates.

The soft rustling of sheets made JJ snap to attention. She nudged Morgan awake and sat up.

“Good morning,” JJ said.

Nathaniel attempted to sit up, but was caught by the handcuff. “Really?” he asked, rattling it a bit to get his point across.

Morgan sighed. “The police thought it would be safer. Honestly, I don’t really see you running away easily in the shape you’re in, but…” He shrugged. “The doctors should clear you later today, if it’s any consolation.”

The annoyed look remained frozen on his face.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Jareau, but you can call me JJ,” JJ said. “And this is SSA Morgan. We’re with the BAU. is it okay if we ask you a few questions, Nathaniel?”

Nathaniel glanced between the two suspiciously. “Your vest says FBI,” Nathaniel said, nodding at JJ’s discarded vest resting on the floor with her gun on top.

“The BAU is a branch of the FBI. We study the behavior of criminals to catch them.”

Nathaniel didn’t look impressed, but JJ and Morgan didn’t care.

“Am I getting arrested?” he finally asked.

“No,” Morgan replied. “We _are_ hoping you would cooperate and tell us about your father. Right now, you and your mother are the only people who can prove Nathan Wesninski is the Butcher of Baltimore.”

Nathaniel flinched, but barely, and retreated into tense silence. So the mother was a touchy subject, Morgan noted.

“Can you answer our questions?” JJ asked.

Nathaniel shrugged as if to say ‘you can ask, but I won’t guarantee an answer’. Both agents had been dealt with less.

“We found fake IDs in your wallet. Twenty-two to be exact. All with different names and hair color and age,” Morgan began. JJ briefly remembered Blake texting her that they were bagging up the evidence while she’d been in the hospital. “You were on the run with your mother from your father, correct?”

Nathaniel didn’t reply, but his posture became stiffer.

“Your mother is dead,” JJ said. “She died when your father caught up to you in Seattle.”

Nathaniel looked up, startled. He looked almost like a deer in the headlights.

“Relax, kid,” Morgan said not unkindly. “Eyewitnesses reported seeing you and your mother run from Nathan while your mother was bleeding out. It seemed unlikely she’d leave you to your own devices, especially with your father released just two months ago.”

Nathaniel didn’t reply. He just made a sound halfway between a scoff and a snort and laid back down on his back, fixing his eyes on the ceiling.

Jj stood up and approached his bed. “Nathaniel,” she said softly. “We need you to tell us what happened last night. Do you remember who took you?”

Nathaniel scowled, but couldn’t bunch up his covers in his fists fast enough to hide the slight tremor in his hands.

He met JJ’s eyes. “I’ll trade you truth for truth,” he said. “My teammates were caught in a riot last night. The Palmetto State Foxes,” he elaborated, though he could see in the two agents’ faces they knew who his teammates were. “Were they hurt?”

Garcia had called her last night when Nathaniel was getting his wounds properly taken care of to tell the team all she’d found on Neil Josten. He’d been last seen at Binghamton University after their win. The numbers of injured at the riot had not been pretty, and the Foxes had been in the middle of it all.

“Eighty-six people ended up in the local hospitals, including three of your teammates,” Morgan said, mirroring Garcia’s words almost exactly. “Just a couple of minor injuries that were easily treated.”

It really was luck none of them had ended up in the ICU like many rioters.

JJ spoke up. “One of our agents called your coach to update him on the situation and on where you were. They’re in Baltimore talking with our team right now.”

From what they’d heard about the Foxes, getting them to cooperate would be difficult, but Garcia’s phone call with David Wymack had seemed to go relatively well, so JJ had her hopes up.

“Your turn, kid,” Morgan said. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

Nathaniel looked down at his bedsheets.

“I knew they were coming since my birthday,” he began, trying to keep all unsteadiness from his voice. His team was okay. They were okay. “Everyday, I was texted a new number, like a countdown.”

He told the agents everything. From the countdown, to the blood in his locker right before a game to Matt finding that someone had written ‘happy 19th birthday Junior’-- which still sent wracking shivers through his body-- the number finally sending him a ‘0’ last night and then the phone call after the game telling him not to run. The agents perked at the mention of the call.

“Did you recognize who called you?” the blonde agent-- JJ she’d said-- asked.

Nathaniel snorted darkly. “‘Did I recognize her?’” he mocked. “Of course I did. It was Lola Malcolm. My father’s assistant. She’s the one who’s usually in charge of disposing the bodies my father leaves behind.”

“She the one who gave you those?” Agent Morgan asked, gesturing with his chin at his bandages.

Nathaniel rubbed his arm subconsciously, but he couldn’t feel the burns with all the painkillers they’d hyped him up on.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was a dashboard lighter.”

Morgan exhaled, long and slow, and JJ just scowled at the floor. Neither were unfamiliar with murder, but the methods were always worse than the other.

“Just when you think they thought of every possible way to torture people,” Morgan muttered, casting a long look at Nathaniel.

“Lola drove you to your father’s house?” JJ asked. “There were patrols everywhere at the time.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “Her brother Romero drove. And no, they didn’t drive me to his house. We stopped to swap cars. They put me in the trunk of a police cruiser. Apparently, they’d tipped off two cops to drive me there to slip past the patrols.”

JJ and Morgan exchanged difficult looks.

“Oh man this is gonna suck,” Morgan said, getting up. “JJ will keep talking with you, kid. I have to call our section chief and tell him we got two rogue cops. You think you could describe them to a sketch artist?”

Of course he could, he wouldn’t be anywhere near forgetting their faces. Apparently, his silence was enough for Morgan, who stepped outside as he dialed a number.

“Hey, Hotch, yeah, we have a problem,” was all Nathaniel heard before the door slammed shut behind him.

“Where did you go after Seattle and before Millport?” JJ asked, focusing once again on Nathaniel. “Did you get your new ID and name during that gap?”

“I want to see my teammates.” Nathaniel scowled.

JJ exhaled. “Nathaniel, look,” she said, dragging her chair closer and sitting down. “We won’t force you to cooperate, but I need you to understand that you are the only person that we know of who can confess Nathan’s crimes for him. He’s dead, but he’s the leader of a powerful gang with affiliations to the local yakuza.”

Nathaniel’s heart plunged in his stomach. He hadn’t expected them to piece it together so fast.

“He may be dead, but his followers aren’t. He has enough reach to sway cops, Nathaniel. We need to bring down his entire operation, but we need your help.”

Nathaniel scowled. “I want to see my teammates. The Palmetto State Foxes of South Carolina.”

JJ sighed, her brow creasing. “From what I understood, you did what you did last night to protect your teammates. This time around, if we don’t bring down the whole thing soon, your whole team could be in danger and this time they won’t just settle for hurting you. They’ll hurt them too. I know you have no reason to trust the FBI, but for your safety and the safety of others, we need you to trust us.”

Nathaniel’s scowl deepened. “Do you honestly think you can survive my family?”

JJ spoke in an even tone. “We’ve seen worse. This isn’t our first gang related case.”

It only further annoyed Nathaniel that he couldn’t rile her up. “I didn’t know suits cut deals with gangsters.” It was a low blow and they both knew it, but he had nothing else.

“He promised to give us Nathan and you and your mother’s cooperation to bring him down,” she said. “If we’d known your mother was dead, we wouldn’t have cut the deal. Emotion always clouds our judgement in the worst situations.”

“Is that from personal experience?”

“Yes.”

Nathaniel didn’t want to think about that or her or Morgan, who was just walking back in.

“Whatever,” he settled on saying. “I’m going to nap.”

“Do you want anything from the cafeteria?” JJ asked.

Nathaniel closed his eyes in response and fell asleep in moments. He woke up when a nurse opened the door to check on his injuries and on the IV drip. The painkillers couldn’t mask all the pain, and that was made apparent when the nurse began cleaning his wounds. Agent Morgan was texting someone, so Nathaniel sucked it up and clenched his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache.

The pain was too fresh and had woken him up, so he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. But then again, Nathaniel didn’t want to speak to any agents at all, so he closed his eyes instead.

He almost jumped out of his skin when agent Morgan’s phone rang.

“Hey mama,” Morgan said as quietly as he could. “How are the rest of the team doing?” There was silence. “No, JJ and I are still at the hospital. Doctor came by earlier and told us he’d check up on Nathaniel again and maybe discharge him later today.” Another pause. “Better than I’d expect, honestly. The kid’s resilient, I’ll give him that. Did you find anything on Stuart?” Morgan waited and Nathaniel opened his eyes, and the answer clearly disappointed him. “Well, I can’t really say I’m surprised. I have to go, kid’s awake.”

Morgan hung up. “Your uncle’s hard to find,” Morgan said. “My best guess is he’s hiding out somewhere. He’s not leaving until he makes sure you’re better.”

Nathaniel stayed quiet. “I want to see my teammates.”

“We’re arranging for that to happen, but it’ll take some time.”

Nathaniel glanced down at his bandaged hands and frowned. The last thing he wanted to see was how his wounds looked, and how they would scar. If he saw his face, he was sure he would throw up.

Morgan seemed to guess where his thoughts were headed because he sat down in the chair again. “Would telling you this is not the worse shape I’ve seen someone in make you feel better?” he asked.

Nathaniel’s only reply was a scowl.

“I’m not kidding. The worst part about this job is that at some point, you just stop being surprised at the lengths people go to.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be interrogating me?” he asked bitterly.

“Well you clearly aren’t talking until you see your team, so I don’t really see the point in that.”

Nathaniel didn’t know how to react, so he asked another question. “What’s the worst shape you’ve seen someone in, then?”

Morgan sat back. “My worst case,” he said. “I don’t think someone your age is ready for that answer yet. Hopefully, you’ll never be ready for that answer.”

“Really?” Nathaniel asked, gesturing to himself. “My father is the Butcher of Baltimore.”

Morgan sighed. “Which is why me telling you this is one of the easier cases would shock you.”

Nathaniel wasn’t as shocked as he probably should have been, but it had been a long and arduous twelve hours. He doubted he’d be shocked by much at this point. His body had simply given up on fear and surprise.

“I watched your game in my hotel room last night,” Morgan said. “You play really good. I might just go see your next match.”

Nathaniel looked away. JJ walked in not long after, three cups of coffee in a cup holder tray and three paper bags in her hands.

“Sorry, the line was pretty long,” she said, smiling. “I got you coffee.”

She handed one to Nathaniel as well as a paper bag before handing one to Morgan and taking hers.

Nathaniel looked at his coffee in surprise, then back at JJ.

“I thought you’d get hungry, and hospital food isn’t my favorite,” she said. “You missed breakfast.”

Nathaniel peered in the paper bag to see a croissant. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“I have good news, too,” JJ added. “Once you get discharged, you can see your team. They’re at a hotel not too far from here.”

“Is Hotch there?” Morgan asked JJ.

She sighed. “Yeah, with the two FBI agents. According to Reid they’d been acting rude towards everyone all morning, especially the team.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Well after last night, I sure as hell wasn’t letting them near the kid. Let them have a temper tantrum because they don’t get to interrogate him.”

JJ smiled into her coffee.

“Once you see your team, will you agree to tell us everything you know about Nathan?” Morgan asked Nathaniel.

Nathaniel nodded slowly. “Yes.”

JJ smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

A good hour later, the doctor came in to do one last checkup on Nathaniel before clearing him to leave. He gave Nathaniel instructions to keep from getting his wounds infected, and how to minimize the scarring and even prescribing him antibiotics that Nathaniel would pick up at the front desk. During the exchange, Morgan slipped out and came back with folded clothes.

“Your old clothes were taken as evidence, and were too dirty for you to put back on,” he explained. “We’ll wait outside.”

Morgan unlocked the handcuff and slid it in his back pocket before heading outside. Nathaniel waited until the door clicked shut to change quickly without jostling his wounds too much and then stepped out.

At the front desk, JJ signed him off and Nathaniel took the bag of medicine.

“It’d be better if you kept your face hidden, kid,” Morgan said as they neared the exit. “The press was all over Nathan’s home last night, and they might have followed us to the hospital.”

Nathaniel listened, and pulled his hood over his head as they stepped out in the sunny late morning light. The breeze felt good on Nathaniel’s face. Morgan climbed in the driver’s side and JJ let Nathaniel climb in the passenger seat while she took the backseat.

“Everyone settled?” Morgan asked, pulling sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and started the car.

The agents were right, the hotel was relatively close to the hospital, only fifteen minutes away, but traffic extended it an extra six minutes. The parking lot was relatively empty of cars, and Nathaniel glanced over the people in suits to crane his neck.

“Where’s the bus?” he asked.

“Hotch said he asked the coach to move it to avoid catching too much attention,” Morgan said.

He stepped out of the car and JJ was opening Nathaniel’s door before he even managed to get his seatbelt off. His fingers hurt like a bitch. The trio made their way across the parking lot and climbed up to the second floor to the only door guarded by two sour looking agents.

“Agent Browning,” Morgan greeted. “Agent Towns.”

They scowled but didn’t say anything. They leveled their heinous glare at Nathaniel while Morgan knocked. He was suddenly glad the agents who’d stayed with him were Morgan and JJ and not those two.

The door was opened by a man with short black hair and a stoic expression that could almost rival Andrew’s.

“Morning, Hotch.”

“Morgan,” the man said. “Come in.”

He stepped aside to let him walk in, and squeezed past another stocky FBI agent.

"I don’t like it," he said to Morgan, probably hoping he’d agree.

Morgan simply ignored him.

“Your reluctance has been noted, agent,” Hotch replied coolly.

Nathaniel tried to go in after Morgan, but JJ held him back.

“Let him break the news first,” she advised. “This is going to be hard on them, too.”

Agent Towns sneered. “It doesn’t matter anyways. You have twenty minutes in there, and then you’ll be going into Witness Protection.”

The words struck Nathaniel like lightning, hard and fast enough to catch him off balance. “I’m not going back with them?”

JJ scowled at the man. “It isn’t up to you how long he has with them,” she told him. “And we never talked about putting him in Witness Protection.”

Morgan introduced himself from inside the room, to the Foxes, out of Nathaniel’s sight. He still couldn’t believe he’d survived and was going to see them again.

  
“I’m here with Nathaniel. He’s here only for a few minutes before we have to get his statement, so please don’t crowd him, and say what you need to say.” Morgan half turned and motioned. “Come on in, kid.”

The commotion inside the room broke when Nathaniel stepped inside.

“Oh my God,” Dan spoke first. She broke off from Matt’s side. She didn’t sound or seemed angry or disgusted, just scared and relieved. “Oh my God, Neil. Are you okay?”

  
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Morgan stepped back slightly and looked at Reid, who was focusing on some of the team’s injuries. The team nurse had stilled when Nathaniel had walked in.

JJ looked at the kids in the room. They were each in bad shape from the riot, but only one girl seemed to have broken any bones, judging from the wrist brace. The others just sported an array of bruises and split lips and cuts. The most alarming was the hand-shaped bruises on one of the kid’s throat. But the way they looked at Nathaniel almost made JJ overlook their injuries. They all looked hollow and red-eyed from sleeplessness.

Nathaniel was looking around, but his question was drowned out by a crash and a young man handcuffed to the coach of the Foxes shoved past agent Towns and almost pushed Blake into the wall.

Browning reached for his gun when Nathaniel’s hands shot out to stop him.

At the same time Hotch snapped, “Stand down, Agent.”

It was good timing, because Nathaniel bent over, clutching his arm to his stomach in pain. The pain rolled over him in waves and he tried to breathe through them. “Don’t,” he said in a strained voice.

He was about to stand up straight, but the newest arrival shoved him down to the ground and knelt in front of him.

“Leave it,” Wymack growled at the third agent, who was moving forward to haul Andrew away.

“Agent,” Hotch said, scowling. “Stand down,” he said more forcefully than the first time.

The agent didn’t look happy, but didn’t question Hotch’s authority.

“Kurt,” Browning said, then shook his head.

Kurt grunted his disapproval, but stepped away.

“They could’ve blinded you,” Nathaniel said, his eyes raking over Andrew’s bruised and bleeding temple. “All that time fighting and you never learned how to duck?”

Andrew didn’t reply, but instead began peeling off Nathaniel’s bandages. Reid tried to stand from his kneeling position in front of Matt, but Abby rested a hand on his shoulder, a clear sign to leave it be. Reid reluctantly knelt back down and forced his attention back to Matt’s injuries.

The other agents apart from JJ and Morgan hadn’t seen the extent of Nathaniel’s injuries, though they’d almost all seen the blood coating his arms. The wounds looked better once they’d been cleaned. Still, it wasn’t a pretty sight, and Rossi’s heart hurt thinking about a father doing this to his son. He’d joked earlier in the case about being a better father despite all his problems with Joy, but the joke seemed of poor taste in hindsight.

“Christ, Neil,” Wymack exhaled in horror.

One of the Foxes stood up, but Wymack quickly said, “don’t.”

Nathaniel and Andrew just kept staring at each other in silence, and none of the other Foxes attempted to move.

“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said.

Andrew closed his fist, as if to punch him, but didn’t take the swing. Hotch, who was standing closest to the pair, tensed, ready to pull Andrew back in case he decided to take the swing. All the BAU could see the barely controlled rage that had overtaken him. After Andrew had punched Reid in the face when the latter had attempted to check his eye, they had agreed to chain him to Wymack to help him stay in control. Hotch doubted he would punch Nathaniel, but he couldn’t be absolutely certain just yet. As the moments stretched to minutes, Andrew’s fist curled tight enough to cut off all circulation slowly uncurled until it hung limp.

“Say it again and I will kill you,” he told Nathaniel.

“This is the last time I’m going to say it to you,” Kurt said. “If you can’t stow that attitude and behave--”

“You’ll what, asshole?” Nathaniel shot back immediately.

“You’re only here because we are allowing it,” Browning said darkly.

“Agent, for the last time, I’m ordering you to stand _down_ ,” Hotch said, leveling a dark glare at the man. “I will not repeat myself again.”

“Don’t lie to a liar,” Nathaniel jabbed at Browning. “We both know I’m here because you have nothing without me. A pile of dead bodies can’t close cases or play the money trail with you.” Nathaniel waited for the other agents to stop him, but they seemed in no hurry. This was the truth anyway, it’s not like he was lying. “I told these agents what those answers would cost and they agreed to pay it. So take this handcuff off Andrew, get your man out of our way, and stop using up my time with your useless posturing.”

There was a moment of silence where the BAU was silent, slightly impressed with this kid’s guts, and only a little hopefully this will finally shut these agents up.

Hotch finally glanced at Nathaniel. “I’m warning you not to anger these men further, Nathaniel,” he said, a clear warning. This was not going to happen again.

Andrew was moving, as if to stand up and go punch Kurt in the face, but Nathaniel’s hands reached forward almost instinctively and framed his face. Andrew stilled, and Rossi was almost disappointed. He’d have loved to let the kid punch all three agents in the face.

There was a tense silence that was broken by Hotch gesturing and, with much grumbling, Kurt pulled out a small key from his pocket and unlocked Andrew’s handcuff. Browning’s face was dark and he looked ready to complain, but Hotch’s neutral glare dissuaded him quickly. Andrew didn’t even seem aware he was being uncuffed, but he flexed his fingers and rested his hand on his thigh. Browning could see their presence was unwanted and unecessary and retreated with Kurt to stand in front of the door. Andrew never once broke eye contact with Nathaniel. If it wasn’t for his mannerism, the team would have assumed he wasn’t even listening.

Andrew waited for Nathaniel’s eyes to settle on his once again. “So the attitude problem wasn’t an act, at least,” he said.

“I was going to tell you,” Nathaniel replied.

“Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying. I would have told you last night, but they were in our locker room.”

“They who?” Browning asked.

Without even blinking, Nathaniel automatically switched to German. Only Reid understood German, so they glanced his way. Reid’s eye was swollen and purple, but his eyes focused on the two, snapping from one to the other while they talked. It was mainly the story given to Morgan and JJ. He didn’t react when Nathaniel told Andrew his wounds were made with a dashboard lighter. What was really awful was Aaron’s loud curse and Nicky’s strangled sob that almost passed as a gasp. Aaron got up from the bed to seek out Nicky. Nathaniel turned around before he realized what he was doing. Kevin reacted violently, by slapping a hand over his tattoo and stumbling into the wall. The others were a mix of horrified gasps and strangled cries. Dan had to stop Matt from getting up.

“Jesus, Neil,” Matt croaked out. “The fuck did they do to you?”

Abby stood up before Reid even reacted and rounded the bed, ready to reach Neil. Andrew grabbed Nathaniel’s face and turned it back towards his and shot an acidic look that she froze in her tracks.

“Get away from us,” he hissed at her.

Reid stood up, ready to hold Abby back.

“Andrew,” Abby pleaded. “He’s hurt. Let me see him.”

“If you make me repeat myself you will not live to regret it.”

Reid’s arm lifted slightly to block Abby’s path. She looked ready to bolt to Nathaniel.

“Abby, I just got out of the hospital,” he reassured her. “I’m as good as I can be right now.”

“Neil,” Abby tried, grasping Reid’s outstretched arm to keep herself from rushing to Nathaniel.

“Please,” Nathaniel stressed.

Abby didn’t reply, but her grip lessened on Reid’s arm. Blake noticed Andrew's white-knuckle grip on Nathaniel’s hair loosened. Nathaniel began talking again in German to Andrew. The rest of the agents didn’t move. Reid moved from Dan to Renee, paying more attention to the cuts that risked infection.

“Thank you, Doctor Reid,” Renee said when he rewrapped the last bandage that covered a nasty scrape from when she’d been knocked to the asphalt during the riot.

Reid paused when Nathaniel mentioned going into Witness Protection. He stood up, staring at Hotch in disbelief. The disbelief led to a furious wave of anger when he realized the FBI must’ve planned this without telling the BAU.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Andrew said in English, making direct eye-contact with Hotch for the first time. “You’re staying with us. If they try to take you away they will lose.”

“Take you away,” Dan echoed. “To where?”

“Are we talking about ‘away for some questioning’ or ‘away for good’?” Matt demanded.

“Both,” Browning said, a slight air of smugness about him, as if he’d finally proven his superiority.

“You can’t have him,” Nicky said. “He belongs with us.”

“When people--”

“This is neither the place nor the time to discuss this,” Hotch interrupted. “It’s not your call to make. And the choice still belongs to Nathaniel. He _is_ a legal adult. Unless you’d want to bring this up to a court.”

“It’s best if he disappears,” Browning argued.

“What part of ‘go to hell’ do you need us to explain to you?” Allison asked.

“We’re all legal adults here,” Matt said, casting Hotch a grateful look. “We’ve made our decision. Unless he wants to stay with you, you’d better bring Neil back to us when you’re done when you’re done with all your questions.”

“‘Neil’ isn’t a real person,” Browning said. “Agent, you have to see--” He turned to Hotch.

“I don’t see. It’s his choice, Agent Browning. It’s not your call.”

“He’s ours,” Nicky snapped. “We’re not letting him go. You want us to vote on it or something? Bet you it’ll be unanimous.”

Rossi turned to Wymack. “Coach Wymack, he’s part of your team,” he said. “It’s your call, too.”

Wymack looked at Nathaniel. “Neil.” Nathaniel looked up at him. “Talk to me. What do you want?”

“I want-- I know I shouldn’t stay, but I can’t-- I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose any of you. I don’t want to be Nathaniel anymore. I want to be Neil for as long as I can.”

“Good,” Wymack said. “I’d have a hell of a time fitting ‘Wesninski’ on a jersey.”

Nathaniel and Andrew exchanged more words and JJ pulled out her phone to text the chief of police to pull out all documents necessary to change names. Once she got that out of the way, she slipped her phone back in her coat pocket.

Nathaniel got to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have told you, but I couldn’t.”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Wymack said. “This isn’t the place for this conversation. We can talk about it on the ride to campus, right?”

“Yes, Nathaniel said. “I promise. I just have to talk to them first.”

Wymack gave Hotch a meaningful look, and Hotch nodded in response. It seemed to satisfy Wymack.

“Then go,” Dan said, then hesitated. “But come back to us as soon as they’re done with you, okay? We’ll figure this out as a team.”

“As a family.” Nicky attempted a weak smile.

“Thank you,” Nathaniel said, his voice shaking slightly.

Allison tried to smirk, completely at odds with her tense posture. “No, thank you. You just closed three outstanding bets and made me five hundred bucks,” she said, attempting to lighten the whole situation. “I’d rather find out exactly why and when you two hooked up than think about this awfulness any longer, so let’s talk about that on the ride back instead.”

Nathaniel simply let his shoulders slump, as if a weight he’d been carrying all day had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Ready?” he asked Andrew.

“Waiting on you,” Andrew replied.

“Then let’s get going,” Hotch said, barely glancing at Andrew, who’d suddenly just self-invited himself. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a long day for all of us.”

Wymack stepped out of Hotch’s way. “We’ll wait for you, all right? As long as it takes, Neil.”

Nathaniel nodded before he and Andrew followed Hotch out onto the balcony.

“JJ, I want you to stay with them to make sure the press doesn’t try to break in,” Hotch said.

JJ nodded and walked right back inside the room. Hotch and the other agents walked out and down the stairs towards the SUVs.

“Reid and Blake, you’ll ride with Nath--” Hotch paused. “With Neil and Andrew. I’ll go back with Dave and Morgan and figure out the details with Cruz on the phone.”

He didn’t mention Browning, Towns and Kurt, and they seemed perfectly fine with simply making their way back to their car.

They nodded at each other and took off for different cars. Andrew followed agents Reid and Blake to the closest SUV and both climbed in the backseat.

“Reid, you’ll be my GPS,” Blake said as she turned over the ignition key.

Once the hotel was out of sight, Nathaniel turned to Andrew.

“Can I really be Neil again?” he asked in German.

Reid cast a brief glance up at the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of the two but made no comment.

“I told Neil to stay,” Andrew replied. “Leave Nathaniel buried in Baltimore with his father.”

There was silence, broken only by Reid’s brief instructions.

“Neil Abram Josten,” Neil murmured quietly enough that Reid almost missed it.

-

The rest of the day was, as predicted, crazy. The BAU had led Neil and Andrew to the conference room where they’d spent all of Friday trying to prove Nathan’s guilt. The boards hadn’t been taken down, so Neil caught himself staring at the photos and sticky notes and the map more often than not.

The rest of the day was mostly questions about Friday night, then Neil having to describe the two cops to a sketch artist, and the past year and a half from Seattle to his move to Millport to joining the Foxes and everything in between.

The agents didn’t stress him much about it, but the experience was still draining and strenuous.

They finished at eight thirty and were going to pick up early the next day.

“Rossi and Blake went to get food,” Reid said, guiding them to a break room that had been cleared and prepared for Neil and Andrew.

They’d all agreed it would be safer and less stressful for everyone if the two stayed at the precinct for the night.

“I hope you two like pizza,” he added when they stepped inside the room.

Andrew glanced at Reid’s face, then his arm, a bored look on his face.

“I didn’t know the FBI let drug addicts become agents,” he said.

Reid froze and Neil glanced in surprise at the two. He looked at Reid’s arms and saw the faintest track marks snaking up under his rolled up sleeve and out of view.

“They don’t,” Reid replied, shaking off the surprise.

Andrew raised an eyebrow and made a noncommital sound.

“They covered for me,” Reid replied. “They knew why I started using.”

Andrew looked slightly intrigued, but turned away and instead glanced around the room, then at the two couches in the room fitted with covers and pillows.

“It was the best we could find,” Reid said, following Andrew’s gaze. “It won’t be too comfortable, but it’s better than sleeping on the floor.”

“Thank you for your help,” Neil said and found he meant it. They’d been more patient with him than he’d expected FBI agents to be.

Reid waited with them until Blake came to their room to drop off their pizza and then Blake and Reid both left the two after wishing them good night and walked out talking about crossword puzzles.

The next day, Blake came by and woke them up and took them to the conference room. The team had clearly gone to a local coffee shop because there were pastries in paper bags and cups of coffee for everyone-- even Neil and Andrew. Neil was glad he’d mentioned to Reid last night that Andrew loved disgustingly sweet coffee, because Andrew drank his without complaint.

Today’s talk would be much more personal and open and the agents made sure Neil knew he could stop at any moment if he needed a break. And so they asked Neil about his life with his father, before he went on the run. They didn’t stop many times, just a couple. When they asked about his life on the run with his mother, however, Neil couldn’t hold it together long enough. He took breaks every hour or so, but not once did the agents push him. They stopped when he said he needed a break. Having Andrew next to him made it better, having one familiar face here, but a little daunting. The BAU agents were strangers-- he’d never see them again after this. Andrew, however, was a Fox. He would be a constant in Neil’s life. But Andrew deserved the truth, and this was it. Every single aspect of the truth, every pocket of lies turned over and the contents spilled out over the conference table.

Finally, late Sunday afternoon, Agent Mateo Cruz-- that Neil had seen in passing but mainly heard in conversations that didn’t invole him-- walked in with papers and a pen.

He set them down in front of Neil and left.

“What’s that?” he asked, staring at the pages.

“A name change request,” Blake supplied. “JJ requested one to be approved for you.”

Neil opened and closed his mouth a few times. He glanced at Andrew, who, of course, was no more help than usual. Most of the application was filled out and all Neil had to do was signed.

“Once you sign this, we’ll start the process to instate ‘Neil Josten’ as a valid member of society,” Hotch told him. “That means you won’t have to run anymore. Or use fake IDs.”

Neil picked up the pen and signed all the pages, hope fluttering in his chest like a caged bird that he was afraid to set free.

When he signed the last page he looked up at the agents.

“We’re done here, kid,” Morgan said, standing up. “You can go back home now. I’ll drop you two off at the hotel.”

Neil followed after Agent Morgan, a tiny smile stretching on his face. This was it. This was what freedom really felt like.

_"The Earth is littered with the ruins of empires that believed they were eternal, Camille Paglia."_

**Author's Note:**

> [feel free to peruse my tumbr](https://blas-ph-emy.tumblr.com/)


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